


Lockdown

by wallofglass



Category: Holby City
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallofglass/pseuds/wallofglass
Summary: John and Henrik in lockdown.  John knows how to use skype, and I don’t know how link vague, disparate scenes.
Relationships: John Gaskell/Henrik Hanssen
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Lockdown

‘No trains, no— no buses even. Nothing,’ Henrik slammed his laptop closed with uncharacteristic rage.

‘Can you even get a bus to Sweden?’ John asked, his innocence so false that Henrik felt for a moment that he could slap him.

‘I told Oskar I would be there for his birthday, John.’

John set down his newspaper, purchased on an illicit second trip to the shops, and arranged his face into a more sincere kind of sympathy.

‘I’m sorry Henrik, but you’re not supposed to travel. It’s safer for you both if you stay here,’ he said. The end of that sentence- with me-hung, implied, in the air between them, curling with the smoke from John’s charred toast.

Henrik sighed, and dropped his head to his hands. Holby, and all its dramatics, was waiting for him. Oskar was waiting for him too, in Sweden, still convinced that his grandfather would move oceans to be able to come and see him. The lockdown had hit the same day as Holby had admitted their third confirmed patient, and there was no way, now, that Henrik would be able to move those oceans. And John, retired and complacent, couldn’t understand any of it. Henrik sighed again and resisted the urge to stick his foot out and trip John as he walked past.

***

‘Twelve more patients today. How’s the situation with you,’ Henrik asked.

These conversations with his daughter in law were still stilted, still weighed down by their history, but he had to try, for Oskar’s sake. Everything was for Oskar’s sake.

‘Not that many I don’t think. It probably hasn’t hit here as bad yet.’

Henrik made a noise that he hoped was encouraging. Sara was silent for a moment, then said;

‘Do you want to speak to Oskar?’

Henrik swallowed hard.

‘Yes.’

***

With me. With me. With me—

John threw a plate at the wall, then contritely cleaned up the shattered porcelain.

He had no right to demand that Henrik stay with him, but somehow the government seemed to have mandated it. Other than going to and from the hospital, Henrik had to stay home with John. The two of them were legally required to spend endless nights on the sofa, eat with their knees knocking together under the kitchen table, argue over toothpaste, and tumble into bed together. John could almost have voted conservative if he’d known they would order this.

But still— there was the terror every time Henrik went to work. The he-might-get-it, and the he-might-pass-it-to-me. It was only because of Henrik that John has started valuing his life, and now, this virus threatened his ravaged, half stolen body. But worse than that, it threatened Henrik. John saw it in the tightness of Henrik’s jaw, heard it in the status reports he gave over the phone: 1 patient, 3 patients, 9 patients.

Being with Henrik had always made John feel safe, had always been the endgame. He had never imagined that the world would conspire against them so cruelly, would inject poison into their happiness.

John gritted his teeth, his fists gripping the clean laundry he was folding too tight, straining the fabric.

***

Twenty three patients. On the day he was supposed to see Oskar. Henrik didn’t even have the energy to text John. The hospital had filled his mind for twelve hours, and all he wanted was to crawl home and into bed, preferably alone, without John pestering him for kisses and attention.

His own front door was almost too imposing for him to open, the wood too heavy for him to move. But inside— a soft glow emulated from the kitchen, and a voice, bell-clear and bright— Oskar.

Henrik stepped into the kitchen, his mind spinning. Oskar was— sitting at the table? No. He was on a computer screen, his yellow hair glowing in the artificial light. And Sara was there, beside him, half of her cut off by the edge of the screen, drinking red wine. And John. John was there in real life, smiling shyly up at Henrik, his eyes betraying his desperation for approval. John always thought he had done too much, or too little, never thought he could please Henrik.

Oskar squealed in childish disgust as Henrik bent down to kiss John before taking his place at the dinner table.

***

Another kiss, over the sink, and another at the bedroom door. John was needy, but after the sweetness of his actions, the dinner plans, Henrik seemed happy to indulge him. John wondered how far he could take it. He hadn’t eaten too much at dinner, it wouldn’t take too much preparation—

‘I’m in again at half nine tomorrow,’ Henrik said, sounding sad. John quickly pushed those lustful thoughts out of his head. It was already after ten, and Henrik had been yawning since halfway through dinner.

Still— they weren’t in bed yet. And Henrik was looking at him so softly. Really it was a wonder John hadn’t fallen to his knees earlier. It certainly didn’t seem to startle Henrik much.

John worked his fingers into Henrik’s pyjamas, worked his mouth into a welcoming shape.

Henrik was tired, and John would be content with his hand, would be content with any of him.

***

John slept through til morning. Henrik only woke once, around two, long before the morning light intruded through their curtains. John was curled up against his chest, gripping tight at Henrik’s pyjama top. Even in his sleep he was needy.

Henrik smiled, and kissed John’s hair, delighting privately in being needed, in being wanted.


End file.
